


Blindfold Drabbles

by nightrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-10-05
Updated: 2009-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightrose/pseuds/nightrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of pornographic drabbles written for the blindfold_spn kink meme. Individual kinks are in the chapters- taken word for word from the prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Holding On**_  
Written for [Blindfold ](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/)  
Jared's a little too strong, so Jensen uses handcuffs.

  
Jared leaves bruises, holding on to Jensen's hips while they fuck, and he hates himself for it. It's kind of unreasonable, actually, how guilty he feels. Jensen hates that, hates the way Jared looks at him like he's some little girl Jared's damaged even though he's had Jensen cock up his ass not half an hour since. The minor marks don’t matter, but Jared’s destroyed eyes do.  
So Jensen, ever resourceful, finds a solution.  
Misha is all too happy to lend him the handcuffs. He doesn't want to know any details of their sex life, any more than Jensen wants to know where Misha got the wide variety of cuffs he'd offered Jensen.  
He settles on a plain pair, metal and shining, with a black padding so Jared won't hurt himself. Pain isn't the point.  
Jensen just needs to remind his Jay that he's a big boy, and he can take care of himself.  
It's always a simple matter to get Jared naked and into a bed. Still, when Jensen slowly pulls the cuffs out of his pocket, Jared's eyes widen.  
"You trust me, don't you?" he whispers. Jared nods furiously. It might make Jensen laugh, in a different situation.  
"And you don't want to hurt me again." The bruises are very visible in the low light.  
"No," Jared whispers, shame in his eyes. "Never want to, Jen-"  
Jensen cuts him off. "I know, baby. I know. And you won't. I'll stop you. Give you what you want."  
Jensen kisses Jared, all heat and passion, and pins his arms by the headboard. There's a soft moan in Jared's throat, all the consent Jensen needs to lock the cuffs around him like a gunshot.  
Jared looks up, eyes wide, afraid, and Jensen kisses him gently. There's lube on the nightstand, and Jensen slicks one finger as he bites a path down Jared's chest.  
He's a little worried that he's causing pain, but Jared shoves up wantonly into the touch. Teasing, Jensen changes to gentle licks around his nipples.  
"Fuck, Jen," Jared pants. "Please."  
"Please what?" he whispers into Jared's skin, soaked with sweat and spit.  
"Please... let me touch you."  
"Hmm... no."  
"Then fuck me?"  
"Okay."  
Jensen grants Jared a devilish smile before ducking lower. He noses through Jared's pubic hair, letting his lips barely touch Jared's cock. Jensen is pleased to see that he's hard as a rock, purple and swollen and straining at the feather-light kiss.  
Jensen slips the slick finger up and in, pressing against Jared's prostate. Jared may not be able to grip desperately at Jensen's hair, but he can and does arch off the bed.  
A second finger, this one dry, joins the first, as Jensen's free hand teases up and down Jared's thigh.  
"Jensen, don't fucking tease while I'm tied to the bed," Jared hisses, and Jensen laughs, sound stifled against Jared's dick. It makes him move in interesting ways.  
"Okay, baby." He stretches his fingers out, and then licks the path behind Jared's balls. He doesn't go further, doesn't suck or rim him, just lets his tongue play along that sensitive area while Jared writhes, helpless.  
He knew this would solve Jared's guilt, but he didn't expect to get off spectacularly on it.  
He is, though, straining. One quick fist of his lube-covered hand against his cock and Jensen's pushing in, slowly, always slowly at first. This time, though, he doesn't change his pace.  
He makes love to Jared slowly and tenderly, ignoring Jared's pleas for more, for Jensen to touch him, just as he ignores his own throbbing cock telling him that this would be a great time to come in Jared's tight ass.  
No, Jared's getting off first, and just like this. Without Jensen touching him, and with his own hands tied to the headboard so he can't relieve himself.  
Jensen gazes down at Jared, eyes glazed with lust, as he maintains the same slow, steady pace, a soft smile curving his lips.  
"Love you, Jay."  
Jared moans and curls his body towards Jensen, shoves into his thrust. With gentle hands on his hips, Jensen slows him, calms him, and kisses him, still moving slowly inside him.  
Finally, Jared comes, rutting against Jensen's stomach and then rocking back onto his cock. He doesn't cry Jensen's name like he usually does, just whimpers and curls up towards him, bowing his legs to his chest. The move knocks Jensen out of his rhythm, knocks the breath out of him. so it takes him a moment longer to let himself find the climax.  
Jensen lets go, blinding light and pleasure overwhelming him, before he gets control back and reaches to unhook the cuffs.  
"Okay, Jay?" he asks.  
"Mm," Jared replies, already snuggling towards him with sleepy eyes.  
"Then next time, we're getting you a leg spreader, too. You kneed me pretty good there."  



	2. Perks of the Job

_**Perks of the Job**_  
Sam and Dean visit an S&M club for a case and get in WAY over their heads.

  
"This is officially the dumbest case we've ever taken," Sam gripes. "We're going to a sex club."  
"It's an BDSM club, Sammy. There's a difference."  
Sam doesn't bother responding to my cheery comment. He just rolls his eyes and wriggles the assless pants the rest of the way up his thighs. I try very hard not to be distracted by that, especially since that's a terrible excuse.  
Sorry I couldn't gank the ghost that was haunting the fetish club, Sam, I was too busy ogling your ass.  
He can't quite get the collar all the way, so I have to help him fasten it tight around his neck. My hands shake while I do it.  
I like the way it looks, a thick line of black against his skin. I'm kind of hard as a rock right now, which is a problem since these jeans are literally skin-tight. They cling to the seat of the Impala like they're glued down. Sam has to actually pry me out when we get to the large, dark building with a sign on the door that says "Mistress Anika's."  
Well, if that isn't a little worrying...  
Still, we have a job to do, and we've worked weirder cases than this one. Of course, this time the really freaky shit comes from the people. There's another couple arriving at the same time as me and Sam, and the girl's on, no shit, a fucking leash. Her boyfriend or whatever has her pulled in close by the leather rope around her neck. Also, on a shallow note, I can totally see her tits poking out of her shirt. They’re quite lovely, too, but Sam’s pants _don’t cover his ass_ , so… I’m a little preoccupied.  
Sam says, quietly, "This is..."  
"Weird, I know." I smile at him. "Hey, Sam, don't worry about this. I'll be there with you, and these people might be kinky as fuck but they won't break the rules."  
Turns out I was wrong about that.  
I have Sam follow me, a little behind, into a dark room where we take off and hang up our coats, leaving us exposed in little more than leather and the metal which binds the leather together. I place a hand around Sam's waist, casually possessive. "So you don't get lost in the dark," I explain, and he nods like he believes it.  
It is indeed pitch black in the room, but there are lit areas. I try to avoid looking at them after my eyes light on a man kneeling in a tub, with anonymous cocks pissing on him, and a tiny girl tied spread-eagled nearby with a tall woman whipping her harshly.  
I can hear Sam breathing harshly, like we're in a fight. Like there's danger. I flatten my hand against his hip and listen to him soothe. "Sammy, we gotta split up now," I remind him as we move through the darkened room.  
He nods, a move I see in the light from a stage beside us. "Okay."  
We decided Sam should play the sub and chat up the crowds, since he's bigger than me, and doesn't... well, let's face it, I'm kinda pretty. It's safer if the giant is the vulnerable one. (Plus, I’m macho and tough. I don’t bottom.) It's my job to go find the remains that are supposed to be buried under one of the private rooms and deal with them while Sam stands around, waiting to cover if he needs to.  
I pat his hip one final time and wander off to the room. I watch from the entrance as he strikes up a conversation with a couple of men who appear to be Doms, since they aren’t wearing collars, before I slide my way into the unlocked, empty private play room.  
There is a black padded bench in the middle, and hooks for restraints everywhere, but I ignore them as I do the cabinets, full of God-knows-what. I bend to the floor, starting to pull at the wooden boards where I know the bones are waiting.  
That's when I'm interrupted. "What are you doing?" the woman says. She's pretty, thin with dark hair, wearing nothing but a bright blue corset and a pair of black panties.  
"I'm prepping the room for my boy." Our response, planned out in advance. "I heard this floor is right over the drainage pipe, yeah? We might make a bit of... a mess... I'll clean it up after." Trying very hard not to be distracted by the image of me pissing on Sammy, I give her a dirty smile and she sighs.  
"Sorry, man. The rooms are reserved for couples. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."  
I scowl. I was almost through, too. "Jesus. Look, go get him. His name's Sam. Big guy? Dark hair?"  
Her eyes widen. "That's your boy?"  
"Yeah."  
"Then if I were you, I'd get my ass out to the main room."  
I don't bother answering or fixing the floorboards. I push past the woman, heart pounding. Sam's in trouble. I know it in my gut. She follows after me. "I'll go get Mistress Anika. You may need back-up and she is... formidable."  
"Yeah. Go," I pant, stumbling over a paddle someone's left on the floor. Kind of carelessly, I think, then push that aside as I see what's going on atop a low stage. Everything is dark except the bright lights, and there is...  
Sam's there, his hands cuffed and linked to identical cuffs on his ankles. There's a red ball gag stretching his lips obscenely wide, and he's blindfolded. I can still see him shaking, see his fear. There is a tear at the bottom edge of the black blindfold.  
I push through the crowd, the people watching eagerly as three hooded figures, two men and a woman, circle him. I step onto the stage. "Get the fuck off of him," I hiss.  
The taller of the two men answers, "Why?"  
"He's _mine,_ " I growl, shoving him with two hands, just hard enough that he stumbles. "And you're hurting him."  
"He needs it. Don't you know how to take care of a boy?"  
"He doesn't want it."  
"You oughta punish him good," the woman says. "Little slut has a mouth on him. Had to gag him to stop him talking."  
I don't hit women, but for God's sake my fingers are itching right now.  
"That's because he's not supposed to submit to anyone but me, you stupid bitch. He's mine. What part of mine don't you understand?" The words shouldn’t be pouring out this easily. It shouldn’t seem so natural to lay this claim to him.  
They're still leaning towards them, and I'm about to resort to violence when blue-corset-girl returns, another, older woman behind her. She carries a short whip but the air of power around her is much deeper than that. She turns to me, first. "Is this yours?"  
"Huh? Yeah."  
"We discourage scenes this public."  
"No! Sammy and I... are... exclusive." That sounds like the best way to phrase the lie. "I was setting up one of the private rooms when someone came to get me, and I found... this."  
She sighs heavily, letting the tip of the whip graze her thigh. "I thought as much." She stalks onto the stage, stilleto heels ringing against it, and unmasks Sam's attackers one by one. She recognizes them, obviously. "Didn't I tell you three idiots to stay the fuck away from my dungeon? We practice safe, sane, and consensual BDSM here. Which means you can't just string up anyone sexy who walks in here. This place'll get shut down if fools like you walk around raping subs. Now, get out."  
They hesitate.  
"Anika, the boy's gagging for it." Yeah, because you shoved a fucking gag in his mouth.  
"His master can't take control of him. Someone has to do it."  
"Shut up, go away," she says, bored, gesturing to the door with the whip. I move over to Sam, and he's shaking so hard his shudders almost bring him into contact with me. "And that's Mistress Anika to you."  
They go. I would, too. She's a feisty one. Not really my type, though. My type is Sam, and it makes me sick to think that I'm getting hard in these too-tight pants looking at my baby brother strung up and helpless, having almost been hurt by out-of-control sadists who wanted to do God knows what to him.  
I hate myself. Anika smiles at me. "You oughta take care of him now," she suggests quietly. "Looks like he needs it."  
"I... can't."  
There is disapproval in her eyes, so I explain, softly enough the crowd can't hear, "I'm not... we're not... Sam wanted to... we're... old friends. Very old friends. And he wanted to try out this stuff, but he needed someone... so I told him I'd do it."  
"You desire him," she comments quietly.  
"Yes. And he... he'd hate me if I took advantage of him now."  
She quirks an eyebrow. "Doesn't look like it to me."  
"I can't."  
"Don't tell me they were right about you." That makes my stomach twist up. "He needs someone. My bet is he needs you. Why don't you ask him?"  
I can't very well explain that it's because he's my baby brother, so I walk over to him, kneeling behind him. "Sammy? 's me. 's Dean." I let one hand rest gently on his leg. "Took care of those idiots who tried to hurt you. You're safe now."  
I carefully unfasten the gag, pulling it out from his dry lips. I want to kiss them wet again. Sam whimpers. "Please."  
"What do you need, baby?"  
"Please," and this time he thrusts forward as much as he can, bound hand and foot. It's an invitation.  
"Gotta tell me, Sammy."  
"Please, _Master_."  
I hear my heart stop at the word. Because it’s not a game, or part of a case, or whatever… it’s a promise. The trust inherent in it, the way Sam is giving himself to me, affects more than just my dick, though that takes an interest too.  
"You want..."  
Another tear leaks out through the blindfold. "I'm sick, I know. Shouldn't... shouldn't..."  
And my heart twists up. "Sammy, shh." He keeps protesting, apologizing, and I sharpen my tone. "Shut up. Or do I need to gag you again?"  
He falls silent.  
"Good boy." My careful fingers wipe away his tears. "Sam, I've been driving myself crazy wanting you. Especially tonight. If you want this- IF you want this, Sam, I will give it to you. Right here, right now. You just say the word."  
"Please."  
I smile. "Safeword, Sammy?"  
He considers for a moment. "Impala."  
"Good." I let my eyes flash to Anika. "What do I do?" I ask quietly.  
She gives me a look. "Whatever you want. Show him he's yours."  
The crowd is still watching avidly. I find I don't mind having them there, having Sam on display for all of them as well. As long as they know he’s mine. "Gonna leave the blindfold on, Sammy." Sam's afraid. Those people hurt him. He needs me to make it better. I can do that. I want it, like burning, like I want to be inside Sam right now. "Tell me. Where did they touch you?"  
He shakes with shame. "Can't..."  
"You will, Sam. Tell me."  
My voice is an order. I leave no room for him to argue. "My... my wrists. My ankles. My arms and legs. My back. My nipples. My face. My ass. Sir."  
At the last, I reprimand quietly, "That's what we called Dad, Sammy. Just creepy, 'kay?"  
"Okay."  
"Did they hurt you physically?"  
"No. Just... scared me. Said stuff. 'bout how I needed someone to... teach me my place. To give me what I need."  
"Yeah. You do. And that person's me, Sammy." Someone who will take care of him, give him everything, and never hurt him.  
The people are growing a little restless, but, horny as I am, I'm not starting with the main event until I've got Sam calmed down. At the last words, he says, in a voice low and peaceful, "Thank you."  
"Welcome, baby."  
I decide it's time to start. Anika says I have to show him he's mine. I know how to do that. "Now, Sammy. Don't want you talking at all, 'less you need me to stop or I tell you to beg me for something. Understand?"  
He starts to answer, then nods.  
"Good boy. Now, I want to make this last, Sammy, but I'm too hard to wait. So you're gonna suck me off, and then we'll play some."  
Sam makes a grunting, moaning noise in the back of his throat that leaves me no doubt of his readiness. I let the pants loose, falling just beneath my ass. I'm already ready, and I push my cock against Sam's lips.  
Anika says, "I don't usually let this kind of thing go on in public, but I think I'll make an exception. Since those three idiots gave you so much trouble."  
I appreciate it. Especially since it means I get my dick sucked. By Sammy. Who's whimpering and moaning around it like just having the head of my cock in his mouth is the best thing ever.  
It's not the most experienced blowjob I've ever gotten. In fact, I'm not sure Sam's ever done this before. He tries to lean forward, to take more of me, and I let him until his wet mouth is halfway down my cock and he's choking on it.  
I realize that he's trusting me in more than one way right now. The way Sammy's tied, if I moved away from him, he'd fall over, leaning into me like this. He'd get hurt, be left bound and helpless with these cold, aroused eyes watching him. I'm the only thing standing between him and that.  
I let one of my hands tangle in Sam's long hair, pulling tight. He gasps, which does interesting things to my dick. "Suck," I order roughly. "Don't stop."  
He obeys, as best he can, and it feels amazing. He's sliding his tongue in and out of his mouth, exploring, licking as he sucks, and it's so gorgeous, his cheeks hollowed around me, his lips stretched wide. I want to see his eyes, but I like him helpless, too. Depending on me to keep him safe.  
The noises he makes, all sweet and high-pitched, are what send me over the edge. I pull out first, though, shooting on his face. Marking him. I'm steady on my feet as the powerful orgasm rips through me, holding Sam up with a hand on his hair.  
I kneel in front of him, tugging his too-tight pants down, yanking them through the cuffs, mindless of how they rip. He shivers and leans towards me. As soon as he's naked, I let him. I pull him into my arms and let him lie there, shaking, resting his head on my shoulder.  
After a moment, I pull him off and kiss him, slow and deep, just the way I've wanted to for so many years. And maybe our first kiss should be different, should be romantic, but somehow this feels right. I can taste my come in his lips, dirty and perfect.  
"Sammy," I sigh softly. What now? He needs something, I'm sure. I rifle through what I'd seen earlier today and get some ideas. "Mistress Anika, can you bring me a couple of things?"  
"Lydia will do it."  
I guess that's blue-corset-girl's name. I smile at her. "Uh, a paddle, and... a flogger. A soft one, small. And a cock ring. Um..." I remember one particularly kinky chick in Minnesota. "Oh, and nipple clamps."  
Sam's whimpering, and it makes me feel rather deliciously evil. The girl returns with the stuff, lays it on the edge of the stage. "Thank you," I tell her, unhooking Sam's cuffs but leaving them on. He's not twisted into the position on his knees anymore, though he stays there. I like the way the black leather looks against his skin, just like the collar around his neck.  
My little brother. My responsibility. My whole damn world. My Sammy. Mine.  
He needs to know that. Know that I won't ever let anyone else hurt him because he belongs to me.  
I reach for the clamps first. I lick at Sam's nipples- they're already hardened into little points, I just want to explore them with my tongue. Then I release the first silver clamp onto his right nipple. He grunts.  
"Hurts?" I ask quietly. He nods. "Too much?" He shakes his head. "Tell me," I clarify.  
"Feels good, Master." Sam's voice is a whisper. The easy way he says that, calls me that, makes me wonder just how long he's wanted this. The thought of it makes me ache again, even though I'm sated from the recent orgasm.  
I close the clamp onto the other nipple and he shudders. I slip the cock ring on next, fastening it under his balls. He looks so fucking hot, wearing nothing but various strips of black leather, on his knees, waiting for me to do whatever I want to him. He can't even see it coming. He just has to trust that I'll take care of him, that I won't do anything to hurt him. Well, harm him. There’s more than a little bit of pain in Sammy’s immediate future.  
I decide I want him more helpless still, tied up again. Fortunately, there's one of those crosses with hooks on every end on the stage, so I wheel it over. I pull Sam to his feet. He stumbles a little, but I catch him, pushing him back against the cross and hooking him to it, his back pressed to the wood, each arm chained to it, his feet bound together at the bottom.  
For a second, I just look. He's so beautiful. His huge muscles strain and flex to hold the position, spread like this, but he isn't trying to get away. He wouldn't try to stop me.  
I'm hard again, just as he is. God, his cock is gorgeous too, bound so he can't get release, purple with blood and curving up his stomach.  
I reach for the small flogger that the girl brought me. It's surprisingly heavy in my hand, a comfortable grip with soft pieces of leather trailing from the end. I snap it against my own leg once, testing the tool. It hurts, but not too badly. Nothing I can't take- nothing I don't think Sammy can.  
And if he wants an out, he has one. That thought is what gives me courage to walk over to him. He doesn't know what's about to happen, can't see it coming, so he doesn't even tense until the moment it snaps across his stomach. Instead of grunting or protesting, he lets out a soft moan. I drag the leather gently up and down his chest, teasing over one of his nipples, before sharply slapping it against the clamp there. I lower it to his stomach, whipping again and again- fifteen times, I count- until the skin over the perfect muscles is red and sore looking. I bend in front of him and blow cool air over it, then taste the hot skin with my tongue. Sam sighs, a sound of pleasure, and I grin diabolically.  
I'm right near Sam, since the flogger is so short, close enough he can probably feel my body heat.  
I lower it further, against the very bottom of his stomach. A few of the strands catch his cock.  
I'm concerned at first. I worry that I've gone too far. But then I see the way his balls have drawn up at it, like he's trying to come around the cock ring.  
I do it again. And again. A stroke on his taut balls, and that makes him shriek in pain. I hit him twice, directly on his cock, and he starts to shake with the effort of not crying out. I see him biting his lip, hard enough that there's blood when he pulls away.  
I straighten and kiss the blood from his lips, letting the flogger fall. I see the way his shoulders release in relief.  
Enough pain for now. Need to make him feel good. I lick over the wound on his lips, tasting the salt, waiting until he moans into the kiss.  
"So good, Sammy," I tell him. He strains around the bonds, like he's trying to get another kiss even though he's gasping for air.  
I decide to indulge him. He whimpers the instant our lips touch, and I don't stop, breathing shallowly through my nose as I raid his mouth, stealing the little breath he manages to get. He tastes incredibly good. Addictive. I want it, I want it all, I want to taste him, like this, forever.  
And I just might get to.  
He doesn't stop kissing me back, even as I feel him panting desperately into my mouth, trying to find air that isn't there, even when a burn is heavy in my own lungs. I clamp a hand over his mouth while I suck in a deep breath, feeling his gasps while he tries unsuccessfully to breathe, and kiss him again.  
Only when he's limp in his bonds do I relent and let him pant in shallow, desperate breaths. I stay close enough that I can feel his shallow exhales against my lips.  
He whimpers as I tease my fingertips against the clamps. It makes me want to hurt him again. I didn't know I could desire that, to see Sammy in pain, but I ache to do it.  
First, though, I have to check. "You ready for more, baby?"  
He nods.  
"All right. I'm gonna untie you. I want you to stand up and bend over, grab your ankles. Don't move. Not gonna cuff you back up, but i don't want you to move a muscle. Understand?"  
Another nod. I unhook his feet first, then his arms, right and left, guiding him back onto the ground. I let him find his balance for a second before tapping him gently on the shoulder, reminding him what he's supposed to be doing.  
I take the blindfold off. "Keep your eyes closed."  
I want him helpless, obedient, _mine_ , because he wants to be. His own free choice. He could walk away any second but he doesn't, and that makes the rush of power even stronger.  
He stays in the position as I grab the paddle by the handle, testing it. It's heavy and thick, and I bet it hurts like a bitch. With a quick snap, I try that theory against Sammy's exposed ass.  
I'm right. He grunts out his pain, and the paddle leaves a charming red mark.  
I set about turning all his pale, smooth skin that delicious crimson, savoring the satisfying thud of the paddle against his flesh almost as much as I do the moans and whimpers he's making. I go harder and harder, until I'm swinging with all my strength, one loud crack, and then I let it fall.  
Still, he makes no protest, and that turns me on even more. He'd never stop me, I realize. He'd let me do it forever, and that means I have to tell when it's enough. There’s no limit to his trust, which means… I have to earn it.  
When his ass is all red and inflamed, I relent, swiping a rough hand over the hot and tender skin. He sobs at that.  
He's crying again, I realize, and I pull him upright. "You okay, Sammy?" I whisper into his ear. "Tell me."  
"More, please," he whimpers. "Master, please."  
That sounds fine to me.  
I turn to the crowd, having felt those eyes heavy on me while I paddled him. "What do you think I should do to him?" I ask them, and voices call out one answer.  
"Fuck him!"  
"Yeah!"  
"Hard!"  
Obviously, they're in the mood for live porn. Still... maybe I get more of this later. And I don't want the first time I've been craving so long to happen like this, a quick and dirty fuck.  
Instead, I tell him, "Hands and knees."  
He clearly thinks I'm going to take the crowd's advice, but he doesn't protest. That only firms my resolve not to do it.  
I slip my cock between the red, hot cheeks of his ass, and fuck back and forth. He squeezes me tight, clenching the muscles. It's totally unlike anything I've felt before. Even hotter than being in a girl's pussy, because the flesh is spanked warm, tighter because he's squeezing the muscles, but without the wetness. When, if, he lets me do this inside him, some other time, he'll be all lubed up, wet and ready so it doesn't tear him up. Now, the dryness is fascinating.  
I fuck him like that, almost real sex, fast and hard, until his knees are knocking against the ground. I grasp his collar, pulling it tight, and listen to his gasps and moans as I come, shooting over his back, onto his ass.  
All lined with red and white. I wonder if a cane would make it look striped like this and hope I get the chance to find out, later.  
Sam's still moaning, whimpering, pleading wordlessly. I know what he wants, but I tell him, "Beg me, Sammy."  
"Please," he sighs out. "Let me come. Please."  
"Why should I?"  
A tear leaks out the corner of his eye. "Did everything you wanted me to. Tried really hard to be good for you." I have to let him, I know that. Have to reassure him he _was_ good. He continues before I can give him relief. "Love you, Master."  
My heart breaks and melts. I cut him off with a kiss, fumbling with the catch on the cock ring. I pull off his lips to whisper, "So good, Sammy. Such a good boy for me. My good boy."  
The words make him moan, no doubt assisted by my hand, stroking him. I wonder why he hasn't come yet, and then I realize.  
He's holding back. I haven't given him permission, so he's holding back.  
"Come, Sammy," I tell him. He buries his head in my shoulder and obeys.  
It takes a while until he's rational again, until I get him cleaned up and on his feet and the crowd dispersed. Anika smiles at me. "Was your visit everything you hoped for?"  
I wrap my arm around Sammy. "What do you think?"  
"Glad to help you find him," she tells me. "Come back soon."  
"We will."  
"And maybe next time, you can actually deal with the ghost like you were supposed to, instead of just fucking your brother in front of a giant crowd of people."  
I gape wordlessly at her.  
"Who do you think called Bobby with this case in the first place? He recommended you two. Figured it might help you come to your senses, too. I just had to call a couple old friends- performance artists- get them to threaten your boy a little. Worked like a charm."  
More gaping.  
"Anyway, you wanna deal with the thing now?"  
Actually, I do. I sit Sam down on the kneeler while I dig the bones up, salt them, burn them, and have done with it. Not a complicated operation.  
Then I take Sammy back into my arms and start to guide him home.  
On the way out, I say to Anika, "Thank you."  
She smiles. "My pleasure. To see you two together?"  
I just hope it'll last.  
When I get home to the crappy motel, Sam still sagging against me, I pull off our coats. I'd taken the cuffs off Sam at the place, since they belonged to Anika, but the collar's still on him. When I reach for it, he whispers, "No, please."  
And I guess that answers my question. "Okay," I say, and turn the lock on the end over in my hand. We hadn't fastened it when this was just playacting for a case, but the key's still in the box.  
It clicks as it closes, and Sammy makes a soft, sated noise and burrows into my arms.  



	3. Unspoken

_**Unspoken**_  
Wincest. Top!Dean. Biting, bruising, spanking, Dean making Sam beg when he spanks him and Sam reluctantly getting off on it.

  
Sammy's naked and spread out underneath his brother. That sentence, right there, has so much dirty-bad-wrong-right that it makes Dean want to come all over him right there and then.  
Dean loves Sam. God, he loves Sam more than life, but he can't say it, can't show it in any way but this.  
He should kiss Sammy, but he doesn't. He bites down hard on his collarbone. Still, Sam's hips stutter up, desperate, seeking Dean out, and that just makes the older brother burn even more. "De," he keens, high in his throat.  
"Shh, Sam. Don't worry. This'll be good."  
Sammy's too young for this. Every part of them is broken and fucked up, because Dean's sixteen-year-old brother is moaning like a whore underneath his body, with a vicious bite mark on his collarbone that Dean hopes to God is low enough their dad won't see.  
What does it matter then? If they get a little rough? If Dean takes a little harder than he might with a girl?  
Sam is strong. Sam will be bigger than his brother one of these days. And Sam wants. Dean was absolutely sure of that before he laid one hand on his baby brother.  
Sam wants whatever Dean will give him. It takes a while, sometimes, to get Sammy strung out and desperate, pleading, but Sam wants. He always wants.  
"De?" he murmurs as Dean's hands pinch bruises onto his thighs. "What're you gonna do to me?"  
Like he could do anything, anything at all, and Sam would just take it. Dean smiles, something deeper than arousal curling in his gut. Sick, again, that this is love for them, the trust it takes to let someone else destroy your body with their touch. "I'm gonna mark you with my teeth. Your neck, your jaw, your chest. All that pretty skin. For weeks, you'll be wearing little bite-bruises. And then I'm gonna bend you over and spank you until you beg to get fucked."  
Sam lets out a high-pitched moan that Dean would call a squeal and laugh at under any other circumstances. Now, he just whispers, "You ready, Sammy?"  
"Always ready."  
The trust in Sam's too-wide eyes (still so young) is about to break Dean's heart so he gives up, turns instead to the promised bruises. Every place he presses his teeth sparks a new kind of moan from Sam. His sweat tastes different with every bite, and his skin feels different between Dean's teeth. It’s an exploration, maybe not a slow trail of loving kisses but still discovering every sensitive place on Sammy’s body.  
Dean bites down, hard, on a nipple and Sam shrieks a little. The bruises are already forming all up and down the column of his neck. It's time.  
"On your hands and knees, Sam," Dean orders softly. Sam shudders as he turns over, offers himself up. Dean lets himself bite one more bruise into Sam's skin, right on the knob of his spine. "What do you want, Sammy?"  
"Want you to fuck me." But Dean knows he can make Sam beg for that- he has, he used to always make him do it. Before he'd touch Sam, Sam had to plead and sob and beg for it. Sammy thinks he does it to prove who's in charge but that isn't true. He has to prove, to Sam, to himself, that Sammy wants it, that they both do. That he’s not forcing Sammy into anything. Sam doesn’t need to know that, of course. Better that he not see how desperately, hopelessly enamored his brother is.  
"No. I wanna do something else first... but, little brother, can't _hit_ you til you beg me to."  
Dean's voice sounds all dirty and wrong to his own ears but Sam wants, desperately. Dean can hear that under the shame in his broken voice as Sammy whimpers. "Yes... okay. Okay. I..."  
"No," Dean cuts him off. "Beg."  
Sam bites his lip. "Please," he whispers. "Please spank me, Dean."  
Sam's skin flushes with shame. Dean wants desperately to see the emotion on his face, but he can't. Can't let himself look at Sam because then it would all run out, he'd be in pieces, he'd have to let go.  
Dean brings his hand down once, sharply, on Sam's ass, and Sam keens. Dean thinks it's a sound of pleasure.  
"What the fuck, man?" Sam hisses as Dean freezes. "I fucking begged you!"  
"And I gave you what you wanted. You should say thank you, baby brother."  
Sam doesn't want to. He even fights it for a moment, but at last, he whispers, "Thank you, Dean," and continues unbidden, "Again, please?"  
It goes on like that. Dean's hand gets a little sore, but Sam keeps whimpering and thrusting and reluctantly begging for more. He does want it, he just can't bear the humiliation of begging his brother to spank him. At long last, when Sam's ass is bright red and Dean's wrist is aching, Sam's voice breaks.  
"Hit me again, please," Sam tries, but he's humiliated, he can't say it again, and he's in pain, past the point of a pleasurable edge. He only gets half the sentence out before the tears start, and that's when Dean stops everything.  
"No, Sam. No more." Dean bends to press a kiss on Sam's forehead, turning Sam around. Sam hisses as his ass touches the sheets, eyes still scrunched shut with shame, tears streaming down his cheeks. "So good, baby. You did so good for me."  
Sam sobs harder than ever at that and Dean smiles, kisses Sam gently, and reaches behind Sam, pushing a pillow under him. "I'm gonna fuck that red little ass now," he says, instead of I love you. He pushes his finger against Sam's lips. "Suck."  
Sam nods eagerly, lips wide around Dean's finger. His skin is hotter than ever before as Dean presses his index finger inside, slick with Sam's spit.  
Dean doesn't waste much time on prep. He fucks the finger inside Sam, then immediately adds a second. Sam gives a little gasp of pain, but since he'd begged to be spanked not five minutes ago, Dean figures that isn't a huge issue.  
Dean spreads out his fingers, though, carefully, because he knows that no matter how much pain Sammy can take, can like, Dean will never inflict it when he's inside Sam.  
"De," Sam whispers. "Please?"  
And Dean does. He slides inside, the way slicked only by some spit. Sam is hot and tight and dry. Dean can feel the reddened, bruised skin from where he'd spanked Sam before. He goes slowly, gently, and he tells himself it's excusable because there's no lube.  
Sam grinds his sore ass onto the pillow, fucks himself back on Dean's cock, and begs to be touched. He knows he's not allowed to touch himself.  
Dean doesn't, though. He just fucks Sam thoroughly until he comes, pleasure strong but love stronger. Only then does he wrap a hand around Sam and bring him off in a few quick strokes.  
Dean hopes Sam's asleep before Dean speaks. "Love you, Sammy," he whispers, hoping it’s only to himself, but the way Sam smiles into Dean's arms, ass red and neck bruised, makes the older brother doubt it.  



	4. On Female Intuition

_**On Female Intuition**_  
Sam/Sister/Dean, she seduces them separately.

  
Sam was easy. Poor kid is desperate for someone to understand him, to know him. Yeah, I guess I do think of him as a kid, even though we're exactly the same age. It’s hard not to, Sam being Sam. So sad and alone and reaching out for someone’s soft, loving touch. (Maybe some Mommy issues, too, but hell, we’re the Winchesters. We’re big on the incest.) His twin is the obvious choice. When he found out I wanted him, well, he was all on board with the idea.  
Dean? That was a bit of a project. He's got the big brother urge to protect up the wazoo, so I just had to explain that he could protect me with his dick in me as well as not.  
Still, I had to play some seduction cards. Painted my nails crimson red, wore a push-up bra, kept tackling him in training and squeezing my thighs around his stomach. That kind of thing. The next time I strolled out of the shower, all-but-naked, Dean threw me against the couch and all-but-raped me.  
It was marvelous.  
I've seen my big brother with other girls. He's all tender and sweet.  
Not with me. I don't want it like that. In fact, I've told Sam about a million times that I'm not made of glass, and he may have the world's biggest dick but I really can take it.  
Unfortunately, it's not sinking in.  
Dean monologues to me all the time about how sick and wrong it is. How he's a terrible person for taking advantage of me. What Sammy would think of him. Et cetera, et cetera.  
It's getting kinda boring.  
Also, my brothers? OBVIOUSLY lusting after each other. Like, about a million times more than either of them wants me. In fact, they’re in epic love. But that's gay, and apparently homosexuality is way more taboo than incest in the hunter's mentality.  
Well, I have a lovely solution to all three of my problems.  
"C'mon, De," I whisper, batting my eyelashes up at him. "Fuck me."  
His eyes dart to the doorway. "Sammy'll be back soon. I..."  
"Oh, please?"  
He's always been a sucker for the helpless-innocent act. "If you insist," he relents with his most charming smile.  
I strip for him, slow and lazy, until he grunts and throws me on top of the bed.  
Just what I wanted.  
Half a second to grab a condom and he's in. I make both of them use protection, though I'm on the pill, because you can never be TOO sure you're not making any babies with eleven toes. That's always been my philosophy.  
He fucks rough, fast, hands on my hips, and I grin.  
Waiting.  
Then the door creaks open.  
Sam's eyes widen.  
Then Dean's do.  
Before Dean can come up with a good reason why he's fucking his sister, "Sammy, I--" Sam grins down at me. Maliciously.  
"You little slut," he says, and I feel my cunt contract around Dean's dick. "What, one brother wasn't enough for you?"  
"You're bigger, but Dean fucks harder," I explain lightly.  
"Wait. You're doing her, too?"  
"Yeah."  
Dean looks down at me, and for a moment I'm worried I've ruined the tenuous balance in my family. Then he trails one hand, gently, from hipbone up my chest, tweaking my nipple viciously when he gets there. I buck my hips forward, rocking into him, and he smiles.  
"C'mere, Sammy," he says.  
Sam unbuttons his pants and lets them fall, keeping his shirt on.  
Dear God, that's hot.  
Dean doesn't stop driving into me, but he changes the position, flipping me into hands and knees and pulling out for a split second so he can get behind me.  
I wonder what he's after when I feel him fingering my ass. Just one, at first, torturously slow. It feels huge, going in dry.  
"I'll get her ready for you, Sammy," he says.  
Another finger, and they spread. It hurts.  
"Okay," Dean says. "Come on."  
"What the fuck?" There is no way Sam's cock is going in my ass. Ever. And sure as hell not right now.  
"I don't think you get much of a say, little sister," Dean chuckles against my collarbone. "A whore like you."  
"Fucking BOTH your brothers," Sam tsks, and then spits twice, on my ass.  
And then he's trying to push in, and it hurts badly enough that I collapse. Dean holds me up, always the big brother, always comforting me. He keeps me there until Sam's shoved in, and then the two of them move together.  
It isn't easy. The rhythm is rough and jagged at first, but then they find their speed, a brutally fast pace where I'm getting fucked as hard as I can stand, two places at once. I think it's Sammy's big hands twisting at my nipples viciously and Dean's peppering my ass with sharp little slaps, but I'm not completely sure.  
I'm completely lost in sensation, drowning, and Dean chuckles when he feels me coming around him. "Wow, you're a slut for it," he says, and I nod even as I bite my lip. I throw my head back, howling, not sure which name to pant out. Sam grabs my hair and uses it to pull himself in and out of me even faster.  
Dean doesn't last much longer, and that makes Sam follow. They roll off, exhausted.  
I'm dripping with come, so I go to take my shower.  
By the time I come back, my brothers are asleep in each other's arms, Sam’s head on Dean’s shoulder.  
I kiss each of them on the forehead and get dressed. We're in this town for a reason, after all- there's a ghost to kill. Plus, I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they realize that a girl did their job for them because they were too busy snuggling.  



	5. Double or Nothing

_**Double or Nothing**_  
Jared/Jensen/Misha, bottom!Jensen

  
(Yes, I know the title is lame. It's porn, not Shakespeare.)  
Written for [Blindfold ](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/)

  
Jensen's all hot and wound up and desperate. Jared's been fucking him for a good twenty minutes, short, hard strokes. Getting him ready.  
Misha groans. "Hurry it up, would you?"  
Jensen feels his ass contract. He doesn't particularly want to take two of them- or at least that's what he tells himself.  
Jared pushes a finger in, laughing. "Hey, dude. Calm down. Just trying to get him ready to take us both."  
"Look at his little hole, though," Misha points out. "So hungry. It'd take anything."  
"Guess you're right." Jared sits up, pulls Jensen roughly onto his lap. Jensen's head rolls forward onto Jared's shoulder. He can't support his own weight.  
God, but he loves this. The way they fuck him, hard and fast and hot, the things they say to him, loving and filthy at the same time, the way they use him like he's nothing more but a pretty little doll sitting on their laps.  
Jared pulls him up for a moment, letting Misha get in position, and then pushes Jensen back down, so he's sitting on two cocks.  
Jensen whimpers. It hurts.  
"Listen to him."  
"Makes such pretty noises."  
They don't stop, don't give him time to adjust, and certainly don't let him control anything.  
Jared lifts and lowers him, arms around his waist, so he's fucking Jensen down on himself and Misha.  
There's always something pressing against his prostate, Jared on the upstrokes and Misha on the down, and the constant movement is so intense.  
That aside, just the way they're manhandling is enough to make him shoot.  
Still, there's a slight problem with that. He's not allowed to.  
"He wants to come," Jared says, sounding amused.  
"Oh? You think we should let him?"  
"Nah. I think we should finish fucking this tight little ass first."  
"It's only tight because we're both in here."  
"True. The rest of the time, it's all fucked loose, isn't it? He lets us ride it so hard all the time."  
"Little whore," Misha laughs, and Jensen whimpers. "Oh, you hear that, Jay? He likes it when we tell him what he is."  
"Whore," Jared says.  
"Whore," Misha whispers into his ear.  
"Whore," Jared murmurs against his collarbone.  
Jensen gasps and wriggles against them, trying to fuck himself down further, faster, but he can't resist the pace Jared's hands set, moving him.  
"Just a pretty little whore."  
"Desperate for it. The slut."  
Jensen isn't allowed to talk, but he lets the desperate keening noises fall from his lips as he lolls further on Jared's shoulder, so he isn't supporting any part of his own body.  
Misha comes not long after, grunting, "Fuck," and then Jared follows, having waited so long already.  
"Now?" Jared asks Misha.  
"Now."  
"All right." They let Jensen go, spread him out on the bed.  
"So pretty. With his cock as red as those cock-sucking lips."  
"Look at his hole."  
"'s huge. I could stick my fist in there right now without any lube."  
Jensen whines in fear and they laugh at him.  
"We oughtta let him come."  
"Yeah." But neither of them do anything about it. Jensen knows better than to move.  
Finally, Misha says, "Go on, then. Beg."  
But he's not supposed to talk! Finally, he lets noises fall out. "Mm. Oh! Ah, mm, mm." Wordless pleading.  
Jared smiles down at him, wraps a hand around his cock and Jensen lets himself fall.  



	6. The New Adult Film, Supernatural...

_**The New Adult Film, Supernatural...**_  
Written for [Blindfold ](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/)  
Jared and Jensen are pornstars and SPN is actually a porno.

  
"Ooh, fuck, yeah," Jensen pants, as Jared fucks him harder into the side of the Impala. "Like that, Sammy."  
"You like it, Dean? Like having your little brother fuck you up the ass?"  
"Nggh. Hell yeah."  
The scene today: the Brothers Winchester have just vanquished yet another monster. This film had started with a shapeshifter taking Dean's shape and raping Sam. That had been a tough bit to film. The handcuffs from the ceiling made Jared's arms sore, so they had to do a bunch of takes, and Jensen was horny enough that he might well have actually raped Jared by the time they finished the last take and Kripke gave him the signal to come.  
Now, to do some "emotional healing" or whatever, Sam's fucking Dean up the ass. The viewers love this shit. Kripke thinks it's the incest taboo, but Jared privately disagrees. It's mostly their smoking hot bodies. And the fact that Kripke's mind is absolutely filthy. Let alone Sera's. God, that woman makes them say the most humiliating things.  
"Ah!" And Jensen makes girl noises during sex, especially when he's bottoming. It's true. "Ooh, please, please..."  
"Please what, Dean? Gotta tell me."  
"Please touch my cock, Sammy, please, let me come, let me come," and Jared's been working on this series so long that seeing big brave uber-toppy Dean Winchester all strung out and begging makes him feel something, especially since Kripke only lets him top like twice a year. Seriously, he is quite well-endowed. No one he’s ever worked for before has been particularly inclined to waste the gift that is the Padacock.  
Jared looks up for the signal, quickly, and it's given. He jerks Jensen off, watches white come land all over the hood of the Impala, and then grunts "Dean," into the back of his co-stars neck as he pulls out to jack himself off on top of Jensen's fucked-out ass.  
Jared rubs his fingers around Jensen’s hole, gently. “You love me, big brother, don’t you?”  
“Yeah…” his voice hazy, post-orgasmic.  
“Anything you wouldn’t do for me?”  
“N…no…” Jensen’s always been good at the helpless overwhelmed act, and his long eyelashes are so pretty when they’re clumped with tears. (Why doesn’t Jared get to top more?)  
“Good. ‘Cause I want you to take my fist, right now.”  
Jensen hesitates, then nods. He’s such a good actor. Jared honestly thinks he could’ve made it in the real world of acting, not just… porn. Then again, he’s pretty damn grateful for whatever twist of fate made this happen.  
Jared pushes three fingers in, easy, and then a fourth. Jensen whines and pushes back. “Sammy, please!”  
He wiggles his pinky in alongside it, and then curls his fingers into a fist. Jen has to be hurting—there’s hardly any lube, just come and Jared’s huge hand in his ass. Still, he’s getting hard again, which is good. Don’t want to have to do that many more takes, a guy can only come so many times a day.  
Jared goes to his knees, fucking Jensen with his fist as he sucks him down, Dean’s amulet brushing his long hair.  



	7. Written for Blindfold Sam/Dean/Sister -

Written for [Blindfold ](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/)

Sam/Dean/Sister - consensual D/s where Sam is always the Dom, sister is always the sub, but Dean switches it up.

  
"Knees, baby girl," Sam tells me, and I obey. I'm still dressed, since we'd just gotten back from a day at the library about twelve seconds ago. He looks over his shoulder. "Dean? You gonna join her tonight or not?"  
"Yes, sir," and my older brother kneels beside me. That's how it works. At the beginning, Dean makes his choice whether he'll be standing beside Sam or kneeling beside me. He needs both. Sam? Not a switch. Not even a little. First of all, that might imply Dean's dick going anywhere near his ass, and Sam is not a fan of the idea of penetration. Second, he really is just a toppy bastard. And as for me? Sweet, innocent little sister?  
I'm his. Sam's, most of the time, Dean's too whenever he wants me. I don't just love it, I need it, like breathing, like my heart beating.  
Sam looks down at the two of us and I can see the love and pride in his face. I wait, obediently, for my orders, conscious of Dean already going stir-crazy beside me.  
"Dean, still," Sam orders, and Dean obeys. I know what I'm supposed to do, but once Dean's been reminded, he'll obey if it kills him. "Now, both of you, turn so you're facing each other." Dean's eyes are shining bright with lust and trust as he looks at me. "Take her hands, Dean." His touch is gentle and warm. "Kiss her."  
I've always loved Dean's lips. Full and red and soft.  
He kisses me gently, almost submissively.  
"You two have the same lips, you know that? It's like watching either of you make out with yourself. So hot," Sam says, and I feel the wet drip into my panties from his praise.  
"Now, Dean. Reach under her shirt. Don't take anything off, but feel around there."  
Dean's calloused fingertips are tracing my breasts, and I quiver into his kiss.  
"Good. You can take your own shirt off, both of you." We leave them folded on the floor. "Face me. Bra off too, baby."  
I unhook it quickly.  
There are two pairs of silver clamps in Sam's hands. I'm happy to see them.  
Dean's nipples are as hardened as mine, so it's no trouble at all for Sam to snap the four clamps closed, one after another. The ache starts light, like always, and I look forward to it growing to the sharp pain it will be by the time Sam lets me take it off.  
Sam ties me on my knees, just the way I am, hands to my ankles and elbows to torso, so I can't move out of the kneeling position. Then he picks Dean up and puts him on the bed. He tugs at the clamps. "You get to go first, Dean. Aren't you lucky? Bet your little sister's jealous."  
I am. I wish I was the one Sam was putting his hands all over right now. Still, I can't complain, with the bite of clamps on my nipples and the hot rough weight of ropes binding me close.  
I get to watch, too.  
As Sam spreads Dean's legs, fastening them to either side of the bed, and reaches for the lube. He places just one drop of it on the tip of a thin sound and then begins to insert it. Dean tries to resist making noise, but little whimpers of pain and pleasure fall from his lips as Sam slides it into his urethra.  
Finally, it's done, Dean's cock curving hard against his stomach. Unfortunately for him, this leaves his balls totally exposed.  
Sam slaps them twice with an open hand, front to back, then back to front. Hard.  
Dean bites his lip.  
I can feel my juices dripping through my panties and down my legs.  
"Hurt, Dean? Me slapping your balls?"  
Dean nods. "Yes, sir."  
"You like it though."  
And that isn't a question.  
Sam pulls sharply down on the chain between Dean's clamps, and Dean arches a bit off the bed. That's a mistake, since it makes Sam start to beat down on his balls again. After six harsh slaps, he grabs them in his fist and pulls until Dean whimpers and begs, "Stop, please, please, no..." But the begging is meaningless as always. "Huh? Too much for you?"  
And then Sam pushes him back, exposes his asshole, and shoves a thick black plug he must have lubed while he'd had us making out up Dean's ass in one fast hard thrust.  
Dean cries out, and a tear drips out of his pretty green eyes. Fuck, I want to touch myself, but I can't. Bound like this.  
Then Sam grabs the flogger from the top of the bed. It's a short one, so he has to be close enough to Dean that they're pressed together to use it, whipping his hole in tight, short little strokes. After Dean starts to moan, Sam switches to his balls. "Glad you decided to let me play with you today, Dean. I was in the mood for a little CBT, and it's not like I can do it to our girl over there."  
Dean groans at the words.  
Five times, he hits, and then Dean says, "No, no more, please, Sammy, don't..."  
There's no rule for Dean against that. I'm supposed to call Sam by his title because I'm his full-time sub, but Dean only calls Sam "sir" when he needs to. It's when the nickname slips out that Sam knows Dean's done, that he's had enough.  
"Shh. You can take it," Sam says, and slices the flogger down. Dean jerks up, eyes a little blank, and then relaxes as he hears Sam drop the flogger. Sam kisses him, long and hard, and then takes the clamps up, rubbing sensation back into his nipples.  
Dean's dazed with pain by the time Sam tugs the plug out and eases himself in. Sam tries only to let our brother come with something inside him when he's bottoming. Presumably he has some master plan to get himself another full-time sub or something.  
I'd be a lot more exasperated if I weren't about to combust from the sheer hotness of watching them fuck. Sam is careful with Dean, far gentler with our brother's body than he ever is with mine.  
Sam fucks him for a long time, stable and steady. He doesn't touch Dean's cock, just rubs and pinches at nipples sore from the clamp-- they must be, my own are aching viciously now.  
Finally, when I think I'm about three seconds away from coming unstimulated, Sam lets go. He fills Dean up, grunting, and then tells Dean, "Come."  
Dean does. Cock untouched, he bows forward and whimpers Sam's name, spurting all over the bed and Sam's chest.  
"Good boy," Sam whispers, pulling Dean close. Dean always needs that reassurance after a scene. Dean relaxes back into Sam's arms, and Sam holds him close for a second before kissing his forehead and laying him down. "You rest there, De, okay? I don't need the bed anymore."  
"Yes, sir."  
Sam lets go of Dean with obvious reluctance- Sammy's always been a snuggler after sex, and it looks like this is one of the few times Dean might let him get away with it.  
Still, he has me to deal with. Sam cuts through the ropes and then presses the blade he'd used to the back of my neck. I stay perfectly still, unafraid, as he loosens my pants and takes them off, leaving me exposed. Sam dips a finger into the pool between my legs and laughs when it comes away shiny.  
"You like this, don't you? You little slut. Liked watching us fuck? Like getting fucked yourself? You're all wet."  
I moan agreement and he smiles at me.  
"Don't worry. I'm gonna fill you up really good."  
Sam teases a lock of my hair behind an ear. "On your hands and knees."  
For a moment, I wonder if he's going to fuck me already. Then I hear the whish and the smack of the cane against my ass. And then I feel it.  
"You're going to take fifteen of those," he tells me, and I whimper. That cane hurts. It's thin enough that it feels a bit like a whip, but thick enough to leave a bruise for a good few days.  
The second is gentle, just tracing the place where my ass meets my thighs. "That's two. Count them, baby girl."  
"Three, Master."  
He slaps it down with all his strength. My voice breaks. "Four, Master."  
I feel another set of hands on me, stroking my hair soothingly, as another lands. "Five, Master."  
"You gonna help me out, Dean?" Sam says. I don't look up, but I know my older brother has joined us.  
"Yeah. If that's okay?"  
"Great. I think I'm done with her ass, anyway. If you want to help me move her to the bed?"  
They pick me up and dump me on my back, spreading my legs wide on either side. Dean kneels above my head and starts to manipulate my breasts, rubbing and twisting and then brutally smacking at my clamped nipples. I whine, "No," sheer reflex. I don't really want it to stop.  
Sam's got the cane in hand again. Three to each thigh, and I count them out.  
Then I feel a gentle tap at one of my feet, and I can barely manage, "Twelve, Master," around the fear. I hate having my feet whipped. It hurts like fuck, and then Sam has to carry me everywhere for days.  
The next stroke is a ferocious lash, and I don't quite succeed in not jerking my feet back. "Thirteen, Master."  
Dean slaps my tits hard twice. "Hold still, slut."  
Sam hits me again, not as hard, but still enough that my voice cracks as I say, "Fourteen, Master."  
The next comes immediately, and it's the hardest yet. I can feel the skin split, and I scream long and loud before I manage, "Fifteen, Master."  
After that, everything is fading around me. I realize distantly that I'm sobbing, but I don't even really feel it.  
Then Dean's hands are in my hair, gently petting me, and Sam's massaging my thighs and telling me, "Good girl, so good for me, shh, you can take it," and I know there's more coming. Sam leaves a gentle kiss on my hip, and then slaps the red spot the cane had left on my thigh, hard enough to bruise.  
I feel a sharp, stinging pain next. My eyes have rolled back, but I assume it's the knife he'd used to cut the ropes off me earlier. The cut is shallow, but I can feel the blood dripping out of it, feel the warmth of Sammy's mouth sucking it off.  
Then he teases me with a kiss that tastes like my own blood, pulling me into a new position, on my knees with Dean behind and Sam in front of me, their hands playing over my body, Sam standing so his dick is right in front of my face. I'm aching for one of them inside, I don't care who and I don't care how. "Tell us what you want, little sister," Dean says, his voice low and soothing.  
"Please. Want to suck you off, Master. Want you to fuck my face, please," and I'm begging Sam.  
"Really? You don't want to come? You don't want us not to hurt you anymore?" To make his point, Dean yanks viciously on the clamps as he lets one of his hands so-gently brush over my cunt. The sensation, the tiny bit of stimulation, is nearly enough to make me come.  
"No, please, want to get fucked, please."  
"Hear that, Sammy? She's begging us to fuck her."  
"Little slut," Sam laughs, pushing me onto my hands and knees. "Why not, huh?"  
Sam's cock presses at my lips, and I open my mouth eagerly. He shoves inside, ignoring the way I choke, and grabs my hair with one hand, using it like the reins to ride my mouth. I barely have time to adjust to his brutal rhythm when Dean thrusts into my pussy, one of his hands tugging on the clamps on my nipples and the other on the collar around my neck. Between that and Sam's dick slamming in and out of my mouth, I can barely breathe.  
And then Sam pinches his fingers on my nose. I pant, desperately, but there's nowhere for the air to get in. There's nothing I can do. I can't move, trapped between their hands, their thrusting cocks. I can't scream, with my mouth filled with Sam. I can't come, not when I know I'm not allowed. I can't even breathe. I just lie there, dizzy with pain and pleasure, as the edges of the world go black and everything starts to spin.  
They pull out when they get close. "We're gonna come on you," Sam tells me, the voice I recognize distantly through my haze as 'Master,' his voice confident and calm, everything I need at the moment. He's still stopping my breath, his hand flat over my nose and mouth, and my lungs burn.  
"Mark you up. Stripe you all pretty with white. Our girl. Our good girl."  
And then I feel it landing, hot stripes across my overly sensitive skin. I groan and writhe, and then Sam's hand his off my mouth and I'm coming just from the stimulation, the feeling of being marked all over, claimed by both my brothers.  
They take the clamps off, I'm too lost to notice who it is or even the pain as I writhe and try desperately to suck in breaths my endless orgasm is now preventing and scream their names, one then the other.  
I think I pass out. When I'm conscious again I'm tucked squarely into Sam's side, Dean's arm over me, still striped with their come.  



	8. Three Blindfold Drabbles

_**Three Blindfold Drabbles**_  
Sam/Dean, fingering, snowballing and dirty talk.

  
Sam has come already. So has Dean, but Sammy's the important one, always has been. He cares so much more about the weight of Sam's seed, heavy and thick, inside him than the fact that he's been allowed to find release himself.  
"Look at that, Dean," Sam's saying, "your hole's so hungry for my cock it can't even hold my come in after I fucked it."  
Dean whimpers as Sam starts to play his fingers around Dean's rim, just gentle taps of his fingertips around the puffed, sore muscle. It hurts only a little, and Dean is glad to take it to please his brother. Then he dips a finger in, pulls some come out with a finger, and rubs it across Dean's lips. Eagerly, Dean licks it away.  
Sam urges three fingers in, no problem, and wiggles them around, not really fucking Dean with them, just playing with the inside of him.  
Dean whimpers. He's too tired to get hard again, even when Sam says, "Fuck, Dean. So wet and hot in this little hole. Just love playing with you. And you'd let me put anything in you, wouldn't you, baby?"  
"Yeah, Sammy," Dean says, and it's true, but it warms both of them to hear it, the absolute trust. There’s nothing Dean wouldn’t let Sam do to him.  
Sam's licking now, playing with the open places, and then his mouth covers Dean's wide-spread hole and he sucks his own come out. When Dean's empty, he pushes him over, kisses him, feeds Dean his come with his tongue.  
Dean swallows it all, sighing contentedly as Sam folds him in his arms, a finger still teasing around the rim of his hole.  


Dean is really flexible, and Sam loves it. Bottom!Dean.

  
Sammy shoves his legs up, by his ears, and holds him like that while they fuck. It's a good thing Dean's been stretching regularly since he was a kid, or Sam might break him.  
Sam's always talking during sex. Saying things about how he loves this, bending Dean up and fucking him deep, putting him everywhere and anywhere Sam wants him.  
Dean's glad. Glad he can have Sam buried deep in his ass and still reach far enough around to suck at Sam's balls. Glad he can take it all and still arch out for more. Glad he can please Sammy, because isn't that what it all comes down to?  
Sam will twist him and bend him into whatever position he wants him and tell him how good he is for taking it.  
What Sammy doesn't know is that Dean doesn't have a shape at all until Sam gives him one, just pushes and pulls at him until he's something, until he's someone.  
If he couldn't give to Sammy, Dean would crumble apart. It's a good thing Sam is even now wrapping both Dean's legs around his own shoulders and getting ready to fuck him. To shape him, inside and out. Make Dean again in the image, to suit the want, of the one person he cares about.  


Jealous!Dean learns of Sam's first time with a girl and does everything in his power to make Sam not only forget, but never want to have sex with anyone else other than Dean again.

  
"Christ, Dean, I don't see how it matters. It's not like she took advantage of me."  
I growl. Fantastic. Not only did Sammy fuck someone else, he enjoyed it too.  
"I mean, I was a fourteen year old boy. Nothing fourteen year old boys like better than sticking their dicks in sixteen year old girls."  
I was fourteen once too. I remember that. Of course, within a year I'd become more interested in sticking my dick in my little brother.  
"It was a long time ago," he finishes.  
"Oh, that's fucking it."  
I grunt and tackle him to the bed.  
"Dean?"  
"You're mine now, Sammy," I tell him. "Always have been. But I don't want to hear about the girls you used to fuck. You only fuck me now. I only fuck you. That's how it works."  
I don't want to think about her hands, her mouth on him. Her kissing him. The thought makes my stomach turn.  
I kiss him. Not hard. Gentle, slow, burning away the long-ago taste of anyone else on my baby brother's lips.  
He gasps and I smile. That's what I'll do tonight. Erase her. Claim him. Make sure he never wants to fuck anyone else as long as he lives.  
Not hard and rough. Not hurting him, never hurting him. Just showing him how good it is with me, how good it always has been.  
I peel his shirt off, sucking a line of hickies down his neck, claiming him. I just touch him like that for a while, hand and mouth on his chest, taking my time, until Sam's desperate and trying to rip his own pants off. I shh him, lay him down, and peel them off carefully, undoing my own as I kneel in front of him. He's at the edge of the bed, so I lube a finger and gently penetrate him with it as I suck his rock-hard cock into his mouth.  
Hard for me, or hard for her?  
I decide I'm going to make it for me, all for me, and I use everything I've got, sucking and licking and working two fingers rythmically against his prostate. It takes all of a minute for Sammy to lose himself into my mouth, and once I'm done being smarmily satisfied I caress his ass and kiss his neck until he's started to get hard again.  
I kiss him, slow and deep, as I slide in, rock back and forth, and look right into his eyes. I'm good at this part. I know I've got the right spot, know my fingers on his chest are making him ache, know the meeting of our lips turns him on.  
He comes untouched onto me when I say, "Sammy, you're mine," and I follow as soon as he tilts his head back and keens loudly and agrees.  
"Forever, Dean. Only you."  



	9. Things Given Freely

_**Things Given Freely**_  
Sam/Dean. Dom!Dean. So dirty I literally had to put the prompt behind the cut.

  
Dean uses Sam as a fucktoy, Sam takes it because he loves Dean so much, but eventually gets heartbroken thinking that this is all Dean wants him for and confronts Dean. Dean didn't realise that Sam was so desperate for his love. Turns out Dean felt the same way, they keep having kinky sex but they also make love.

"Please, sir, please, just fuck me. It's all I want. It's all I'm good for. Please," I say, and it hurts more than anything else, certainly more than the way he's fucking me, brutal and unlubed. Hurts, not because of the words, but because I want so much more.  
I love him. I love him more than anything and if this is all I get, I'll take it.  
Take anything.  
It's not that the sex isn't hot. It's that my heart is breaking because of it.  
Yeah, I like submitting to Dean. I even like the way I get used, like an object, like a toy. It turns me on. I'm not ashamed of it.  
What I'm ashamed of is that it's all he thinks I'm good for, and he's the only person in the world whose opinion of me matters- including myself.  
He comes in me, hot and hard. For a second I think he's going to hold me close but then he pushes me to the floor and I sleep there, curled up, aching to be in his arms. The humiliation really doesn’t bother me. I like the feeling of being debased. The pain from my throbbing, too-stretched ass and the sharp bites on my neck and collarbone is good.  
That doesn’t change one thing.  
I can't do this anymore.  
I’m in love with my brother. He’s the whole world to me, always has been, and all I am to him is a warm body for his bed at night. We’re close—as brothers—but when it comes to the sexual part of our relationship, he just wants to use me. And I want his love.  
Selfish, maybe, to demand everything from him. But I can’t help it. I can’t change the way I feel, and something has to give.  
\----------  
The next morning, I wake up early, straighten up the bedroom, and wait for him to wake up.  
I bring him his coffee and then say, "Dean, there's something I need to tell you."  
He nods.  
I bite my lip. Finally, I realize the words are simple. "I love you."  
"Sammy..."  
"I know. I know it's not how it works. I know it's not supposed to be about that, I know I'm not supposed to say it, but I love you so much and this is killing me. I'd do anything for your love, but knowing that all you want from me is a pliant little fucktoy? Dean, I'd do anything for you, but..."  
"Sammy?" and this time it's shocked, a question. Horrified.  
"I'm sorry. I just... It's breaking my heart, Dean."  
He doesn't say anything else. Just grabs me and lays me down on the bed. I ready myself, because I know he's going to use me, but he doesn't.  
He kisses me.  
Slow and sweet with his heart on his lips, pulling me close. His fingers dance along the buttons of my shirt, exposing me in a way nakedness never has before in all the times Dean's taken me.  
"I love you," he whispers, and he doesn't need to say anything else. Doesn't need to explain anything. "You're still mine, Sammy. I'm gonna keep using you just like I have been," he warns, caressing my chest with shocking tenderness.  
"Okay," I say.  
"But you gotta know I love you, baby. Love you more than anything. And I'm gonna make love to you right now and prove it."  
Dean smiles down at me. I cling to his neck as he slides the plug he keeps in me all the time out, gently, kissing me again.  
He's soft and careful with me, like I'm made of glass, and suddenly I do feel very fragile. Like Dean could break me in an instant- I'm his, completely, after all.  
He wouldn't, though. Now I know it. With him inside me now, nudging gently in, I believe that he'd rather die than do that.  
Why?  
Because he loves me.  
I relax into the touch of his caresses, the tenderness of his lips on mine. He whispers into my ear, “I own you, Sammy. You’re all mine.”  
I nod. I know that.  
“Not just this beautiful body. Every part of you. Your crazy-genius brain and your big stupid heart and your soul. It’s all mine.”  
“Yeah. You finally see it.”  
“I thought I could only have the outside, sweetheart. That you needed someone to… to control you, to dominate you, and that you could trust me with that. I didn’t know you felt like this for me, or I would’ve been giving both of us what we want for a long, long time.” He rocks back and forth, slow and steady. “You’re going to give me everything and I’m going to take care of you, Sammy. ‘cause you’re mine.”  
“Yes,” I moan, throwing my head back. Dean devours the skin with open-mouthed kisses, tracing over the bruises from last night.  
“Never gonna let you go,” he swears, and then whispers, “Come.”  
Like always, I obey.  
\----------  
I’m on my knees in front of him, his hands tangled tightly in my hair. He rocks my mouth back and forth over his length. “Slut,” he chuckles as I moan around him, enjoying the feeling of being so thoroughly used.  
The ground presses into my knees, my hands straining where they’re tied behind my back. I’m blindfolded and bound, and I’m pretty sure the gag’s going back in as soon as he’s finished with my mouth.  
“Suck it,” he tells me, and I obey. When he comes, it’s hot and hard, spasming down my throat. He doesn’t give me any time to recover, just picks me up and bends me over the bed, reaching for his favorite paddle.  
I’m ready for the pain, to go with him using me. I’m ready for everything.  
He hits hard and fast, again and again, until I cry out and writhe against the sheets. I know I won’t be allowed to come tonight. Sometimes Dean withholds orgasms no matter how good I am, just to remind me of my place, and he’d told me in advance this would be one of those nights. I’m here for his use alone.  
That’s all I want, because now I know that he treasures what I’m giving him.  
When my ass is hot and red, he touches the inflamed skin gently, almost reverently, before slapping it once with his bare hand.  
“Good boy,” he tells me.  
I sleep in his arms, sore and safe as he cradles me close.  



	10. Blindfold Drabbles

_**Blindfold Drabbles**_  
Dean really gets off on following Sam’s orders. Sam plays with him for a little bit and then tells Dean not to come until he is allowed.

  
Three minutes into the blowjob, Sam looks up from my cock, pulls his mouth off, and says, "Remember not to come until I order you to."  
And he says order, which sends heat down my spine, but he's also sucking my dick, which doesn't make me crazy about the whole not-coming thing.  
I have my hands laced behind my back, like he's said, and my feet planted.  
I'm being good. So good.  
Now all I have to do is not come.  
That's a problem.  
Sam sucks hard, one hand playing with my balls, and I can barely stand up straight.  
I want to come. My balls are aching, my dick throbbing, all my skin over-sensitive. I have decent control, but not when Sam's on his knees sucking me down like this and telling me what to do.  
He pulls off, and I hope he's going to give the order I'm waiting for. He doesn't. "Play with your nipples, Dean. Pinch them, twist them. And look at me."  
I do. I pinch as hard as I can, hoping pain will distract from the pleasure that's spiraling out of control.  
It doesn't.  
If anything, it makes me jerk harder in his mouth (involuntary movements, not thrusts. I'd never fuck into Sammy's mouth like that, I might hurt him.)  
He looks so hot, too, his wide mouth stuffed full of me, his eyes big and wide and glittering with mischief as he denies me.  
It's not even teasing.  
It's pure stimulation, but I'm not ALLOWED to get off.  
And that, right there? Is turning me on even more than Sammy's pretty lips stuffed with cock.  
He rubs at my balls again, but I don't whimper or plead, much as I want to. I don't have permission.  
I can feel big tears in my eyes, but I don't let them fall. Just watering, moisture.  
Sam breathes out along my dick and I almost start to come, then yank my self-control back in place. My victory wins no indulgence. He just starts to lick the head, long strokes, while pumping my length roughly with his hand.  
He tongues at the slit in the head of my cock, teasing his fingers down me, and then thrusts his head down my length again.  
I stifle a scream as he starts to suck again, just continuing the motion until I know I can't take it anymore.  
Then, finally, when the tears are rolling down my face and my balls are swollen and drawn up and my nipples are sore and red from my own fingers pinching at them, Sam stands.  
He pulls me close, body to body, and whispers in my ear, "Come for me."  
I obey.  


Ruler of Hell Sam likes to keep his Unholy Consort on his lap like a pet. Dean doesn't hate it either.

  
They say Sam should keep his boy tied down but he doesn't want to. Sam's the king of hell and he gets what he wants. What he wants is Dean. Has for a very long time.  
Dean on his lap, all pretty and perfect and eager. Dean's touch, Dean's kiss, Dean's (he admits it) ass.  
Before, that want was all bound up in words like brother and wrong, but now none of that matters.  
What matters is that they're together, here at the end of things. Dean chose Sam above the world, and in return Sam chooses to keep Dean by his side every day, chooses not to let Hell harm innocent souls, chooses to keep the rape and murder to the real assholes of the universe, chooses Dean.  
Always Dean.  
So when demons say he should keep Dean chained to the foot of his throne, he laughs and laughs, as does his brother. Dean may be Sam's pet, but it's by choice. It's not like Dean will run off. Both of them want him right where he is.  
Curled, safe and warm, on Sam's lap like a big cat. When there are no demons seeking audience, Dean will slip the plug out of his ass and fuck himself on Sam until they're both coming blindingly hard. Sam will clean it up with a snap of his fingers, refasten their clothes, and Dean will be once again nestled against Sam, his head against Sam's chest, the smell of his hair in Sam's nose, as Sam does the business of Hell until he can take his brother, his consort, his lover, his love, his everything- his Dean- home for the night. In their palace, and only there, they are equals, just two men, just Sam and Dean.  
But in the room of thrones and blood, surrounded by the screams of tortured souls, Dean doesn't mind his place on Sam's lap. He wouldn't even mind if Sam took the demons' advice and chained him at Sam's feet.  
As long as he's with his brother, Dean knows he is loved, knows he is safe. The thought makes him cuddle closer into Sam's warmth, and Sam smiles fondly down at him and wraps an arm around his chest, petting him gently.  


Sam/Dean where Dean gets seriously face fucked; messy and brutal.

  
I think what he's whimpering around my dick is "Harder." I indulge him.  
My cock is huge. This is not an ego thing. It is literally gigantic. Not many people can even start to deep-throat me, but there's nothing Dean likes better than this.  
He's gagging and choking on it, spit dripping down his chin. "Fucking disgusting," I hiss at him. "Drooling all over yourself, you filthy slut."  
He moans, which sends vibration up and down my dick. I fuck into him harder, as hard as I can, gripping his hair viciously. His eyes are glazed as he stares up at me, sucking on my cock like it's a lollipop while I brutally fuck his mouth.  
"Suck it, Dean," I command roughly. "Damnit, if this is all you're good for, you'd think you'd be better at it."  
He whines high in his throat and sucks furiously harder, the suction now so perfect I can hardly restrain myself from coming down his throat.  
I love this. I love being in control, Dean on his knees. I love being the only one who can talk, so I can say all the cruel filthy things I want and just watch the way it turns him on.  
Dean's pretty lips are turning bruised, glazed with spit and precome. My balls slap harder against his chin with every fast, messy thrust. It's wet and dirty and good.  
Dean's moaning louder and louder around me, but doesn't forget to suck. "Whining for it like the slut you are, Dean," I taunt him, and he shudders and comes. I'd told him he could touch himself this time- I was surprised he lasted this long, honestly.  
I push further into his throat, hold him there, watching him choke on my cock for a few fascinating seconds before I start to fuck him again. When he's come a second time and his lips have gone from cherry red to bruised purple, I let go.  
Dean swallows it all furiously, cleaning the spit and come off his chin with an eager tongue. He looks up at me desperately, like he wants more already.  
I smile down at him. "Good," I tell him. "That was really fucking fantastic."  
He grins back up at me, bright and innocent and eager.  



	11. Blindfold Drabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #17 is my absolute favorite thing I wrote for blindfold. If anyone wants to see that as a 'verse, let me know. I'd like to expand it but I don't knwo where to start.)

_**Blindfold Drabbles**_  
Three drabbles: creepy forced feminization, ridiculous shmoop, and Daddy!kink porn. All in one lovely bundle. (Note: #17 is my absolute favorite thing I wrote for blindfold. If anyone wants to see that as a 'verse, let me know. I'd like to expand it but I don't knwo where to start.)

  
Sam/ Dean, forced feminization  
  
"Sammy, gotta hold still."  
Dean hates this. Hates the way he has to do this. Hates it even more when little Sam wriggles and writhes and says, "Dean, it makes me look like a giiiiirl," all whined out, like he doesn't know that's the point.  
But maybe he doesn't. Because Sammy's only six years old and he doesn't know the things Dad thinks. The way Dad leers at Sam, becomes a stranger.  
Dad wants to do... Dean remembers kids talking about it at school. Fucking. Dad wants to fuck Dean's baby brother, wants to make him into a girl so he can.  
It's wrong. Dean knows it. But if Dad comes home and finds out Sammy isn't dressed like he's supposed to be, it won't be Dean who gets it. That wouldn’t be worth hurting Sammy over—Dean wouldn’t do it if he was the one getting hit if he didn’t. Dad knows the most effective way to punish Dean is to hurt Sammy, so he'll rip down Sam's skirt and beat him with a belt until he's crying, sometimes until he passes out, and then it'll be Dean who carries him everywhere when he can't walk for a month.  
"Sorry, little brother," Dean says quietly. "So sorry."  
He can only call Sammy that when Dad's far away, because whenever Dad's in the house, Sam is his baby girl.  
Sam hates it almost as much as Dean does.  
Sam isn't allowed to cut his hair, so Dean brushes and braids it, his fingers gentle and soft. He knows Sam hates it most when any part of this makes him feel good, but Dean can't stand the thought of being rough with his brother.  
He tries not to think of the fact that Dad takes this brush to Sam's ass sometimes while he's pulling it carefully through the end of Sammy's braid, right underneath the pink ribbon in a careful bow.  
Dean helps Sam into his dress, white with pink flowers. He thinks 'pretty,' and his stomach turns. He pulls the zipper up Sam's back, and has his brother turn so he watches the skirt fly in a circle. If he didn't know better, he'd think Sam were a girl. Dad will be happy. Dean squirts the perfume on Sam. He recognizes the scent. Mommy used to smell like that.  
Sam wrinkles his nose, all cute and innocent, and laughs as Dean presses a kiss on it.  
Make-up last. Sam's mascara goes on thick and careful, Dean putting the brush in cautious stripes upwards, to make his lashes long, beautiful, girly. Dean lines his brother's eyes in sparkling blue, upper and lower, as close as he can get with a thin, thin brush. He brushes light shadow all around the eyelid. Blush next, on the apples of Sam's cheeks, bright roses. Then lip gloss, until Sam's mouth is red and looks, God help Dean, kissable.  
Dean sighs, helps Sam up, fastening the silver necklace Dad bought for him last week around Sammy's neck.  
"Sam," he says quietly. "I know it doesn't make this better, but... you do look beautiful." Dean hates himself for saying it, but Sam smiles, dimpling underneath the false blush.  
Innocent, so innocent, as he says, "Will this make Daddy happy?" and all Dean can do is swallow and nod.  


Dean wooing Sam. Like he doesn't want to treat Sam the same as all the meaningless girls in his life and thinks they need to take their time.

  
Sam doesn't get it. Dean's never been a roses and butterflies kinda guy, so why is he all of a sudden acting like he doesn't consider himself God's gift to anything he wants to stick his dick into?  
Seriously, the night after they confess their feelings, Dean takes him to their usual Friday movie night. But he treats it like a date. He gets all dressed up and wears cologne and pushes the armrest between their seats up so he can pull Sam into his side.  
Dean buys him candy and feeds them to him, one by one.  
It's been a week and Dean hasn't so much as kissed Sam. It's been all gentle little touches. Dean holds his hand when they walk together now, whenever Dad won't notice. When they sleep, it's spooned together in one bed, Dean holding Sam close all night.  
Dean has stopped leaving notes in Sam's lunchbox, teasing brotherly stuff, and instead writes out poems from collections he knows Sam likes. Love poems. And he always leaves a Hershey's kiss in the bottom.  
After a few weeks, Sam finally says, "You know, Dean, I'm not a girl." It's not that he doesn't enjoy being treated like he's made of gold, it just... shakes him up a bit.  
"I know," Dean says quietly. "You ever seen how I treat girls?"  
That's a good point. Sam seriously doubts Dean's ever bothered with so much as one movie where the women in his life are concerned.  
"Not gonna treat you like that, Sammy. You're the most important thing in my life."  
Well, Sam doesn't really have a good answer to that.  
That Sunday, Dean has Sam wear a blindfold while he drives somewhere. He takes it off to reveal a quiet little meadow beside a riverbank, the area all spotted with white flowers. Dean's already spread out a red-and-white tablecloth across the grass, and the sun is high and bright in the sky.  
There's food, of course, plenty of it. The kind Sam likes. Egg-salad sandwiches with the crusts cut off, and hand-squeezed lemonade Dean must have charmed out of the lady next door. Strawberries and whipped cream for dessert, and it warms Sam, thinking that Dean did this for him, when the last time he and whipped cream and romance were all in the same room it was because Dean was licking it off a blonde's triple-Ds.  
Dean takes Sam's hand when they've finished eating, guides him into Dean's arms, and asks quietly, "Can I kiss you, Sammy?"  
They both know it'll be Sam's first kiss. Neither of them can think of a better time or place. "Yeah," Sam says.  
Dean leans into his little brother, tasting the strawberries on his lips. It's chaste and gentle and slow, both pairs of eyes closed, both of them clinging to each other.  
When Dean pulls away, it's to whisper in Sam's ear, "I love you," and then tug him back down for another tender kiss.  


Dean and Sam have an established relationship, and Sam gets Dean to talk about his fantasies. He's embarrassed but Dean has a fantasy where Sam calls him Daddy, but Sam's into it. They start to roleplay, and Dean tries to act like John since he thinks that's what Sam wants. But really Sam just wants Dean to be his daddy.

  
"De, tell me," he whines in a high-pitched, baby-brother voice that shouldn't affect me in a sexual situation at all, but of course sends little jolts of electricity down my dick.  
I sigh. "I... want you to..." I blush. He's gonna think this is sick, and I'm already fucking my brother- that's pretty bad. "I want you to call me Daddy. While we have sex."  
Sam's eyes light up. Huh. Maybe I'm not the only Winchester with some Daddy issues. "Okay."  
"Like, right now?"  
"Why not?"  
I think about it, and sigh. Because I don't want to pretend to be my father. I want me and Sam to just be me and Sam.  
Still, if Sammy gets off on it... there's no doubt I will too. Because, those aforementioned Daddy issues?  
Yeah, I have a drill-sergeant for a father and I'm fucking my little brother. You probably could have figured it out on your own.  
I stand. "Get your clothes off," I snap, imitating Dad's growl.  
"Yes, Daddy," Sam replies, his voice startlingly young. I'm surprised. Neither of us ever called our father Daddy. Always Dad or Sir.  
He strips quickly, efficiently, but throws the clothes on the floor. I glare at him. Dad was always a bit of a neat freak. "Fold those up, boy."  
He does, with all the military precision of our childhood.  
"Now get on your knees." It should be disturbing how much I sound like my father as I say that.  
Sam looks up at me. "Dean," he says quietly, breaking the fantasy. "I don't want you to pretend to be Dad. If... if it's okay. I... just want it to be you. Being my daddy, taking care of me. You and me, like always."  
I grin. "All right, Sammy. I can do that."  
I take off my own clothes, then. "C'mere, baby boy," I whisper, pulling him close. "You ready to fuck yourself open for your daddy?"  
He moans and nods. I gesture at the lube. "Go on, sweetheart. You do it. I'll be right here, watching."  
He does, one finger at a time, so careful. Then I sit on the bed. "Wanna ride Daddy's cock, baby boy?"  
"Yeah, Daddy, please." His voice is high and breathy, like a child's, like he's dependent on me, and none of this should be turning me on so much.  
"Go on, then."  
He does, straddling me, slowly sinking his open asshole onto my cock. He's velvet soft and tight enough with only two fingers of prep that I can pretend he's tiny, inexperienced, a virgin. My innocent Sammy.  
He sinks down. "Harder," I say. "Can you go harder for me?"  
"I'll try," he says, his face screwing up in concentration. He fucks himself desperately on me. Finally, he's coming across my stomach like he really is a kid again. "D-daddy!" he keens, then, "Dean!"  
I feel my own orgasm then, rough and fast, ripping into him. I roll over, kiss Sam chastely on the forehead, then say, "You know, it's awfully disrespectful to call your daddy by his first name. Maybe I oughta spank you for that."  
Sam moans and I laugh.  



	12. Blindfold Drabbles

_**Blindfold Drabbles**_  
Congratulations, I'm finally going to stop spamming you with my blindfold stuff. This is the last of them.

  
Jared/Jensen; established relationship; finally getting together after weeks of scheduling conflicts; handcuffs; dom!Jensen

  
"God, Jen, missed you," Jared moans, and that's when Jensen knows it'll be one of those nights.  
It isn't that they haven't seen each other for three weeks, just that it's been all quick hi's in the halls and stolen kisses on set. No time for the real thing.  
Jensen smiles down at his Jay and kisses him, gentle and lingering. "Ready, baby?" he asks. Jared swallows, like he hadn't been expecting those words, their cue.  
"Yes, sir," he answers. Arousal coils up in Jensen's gut.  
He fumbles for the handcuffs, which have slipped into disuse after all this time. They're still in the bedside drawer, though, so Jen grabs them, sitting on top of Jared's chest as he locks them shut, cuffing Jared's hands together, the chain between the cuffs locked around a slat of the bedpost.  
Jared is smiling, peacefully. He never looks as beautiful as he does when they do this.  
Jensen carefully undoes Jared's clothing, hands gentle and careful. He likes Jared bound, helpless, but the thought of hurting his Jay makes him sick. He grabs the scissors and cuts the T-shirt off, unwilling to undo the cuffs for even a second. Besides, it was just an old grey T-shirt. Neither of them will miss it.  
Exposed, now, naked, Jared lies back. He looks happy and content and relaxed, which is fine for after sex. During, Jensen thinks he'd like his boy to be a little more engaged.  
There's an easy solution to this.  
Jensen licks a stripe up Jared's dick, and there. Jay's bucking into his mouth like he actually thinks he's gonna get more. Like he thinks Jensen's gonna let him come already.  
Not so much.  
Jensen teases his hands, gently, up and down Jared's chest, stroking the muscles with light fingertips, tasting the warmth of Jared's skin. God, he'd missed this, missed his Jay all eager and beautiful underneath him.  
Jared moans wantonly and arcs into the touch, helpless to do more, bound so he can't move, can't pull Jensen to him.  
Jensen whispers "I love you," into Jared's stomach and licks his name onto the skin above Jay's belly button.  
He continues his exploration. Jared can't move away, can't get impatient for the main event, so Jensen takes his time re-learning every curve and crevice of Jared's gorgeous body. He remembers the spot right above Jared's hipbone, the way he gasps when Jensen blows on the thin hairs on his upper thighs, his breastbone, the planes of his back.  
Finally, he starts to explore the inside. Even three weeks of filming hadn't let him forget this. Right where his fingers and tongue should go, all the right places, all the right ways.  
Jensen's barely gotten inside him when Jared's coming. His belly now striped with white, moving softly inside Jared, Jensen reaches up to undo the cuffs so Jared has time to begin his own exploration.  


Summary behind the cut

  
“Ok, so I was watching Bloodlust yesterday and the scene after they kill the vampire and Sam and Dean and Gordon are in the bar and Sam's leaving, Dean says to Sam "Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of you". And then Sam gives him a look which is supposed to be 'I can't believe you're hanging out with this douche Gordon', but the line fucking turned me on and I took the look as 'Yes sir'.”

Dean walks through the door. "Why're you on your knees?" he asks casually.  
"You told me to remind you, sir. To beat the buzzkill out of me?"  
"Right. I'd forgotten." Dean smiles. "Good thing you reminded me, Sammy."  
For Dean, maybe. My heart pounds in my chest. I don't enjoy the pain, per se, but I sure as hell like submitting to Dean. I like doing whatever Dean wants, so this isn't that bad.  
I'm naked already. Dean keeps smiling as he loosens his belt. I breathe a little easier, knowing it'll be that simple.  
He grins. "No, Sammy. You're not getting off that easy tonight. I gotta remind you of a few things." He runs a free hand through my hair, affectionately. "I get to do whatever I want. You're not the boss of me. If I wanted to bring him back here and let him fuck me, you would sit quietly in the corner and wait. You're mine. I'm not yours."  
I nod, closing my eyes. It hurts to hear that.  
Then Dean's voice is deeper, more intense. "But I wouldn't do that, Sammy. You need to trust me more. Not be jealous like that, okay? Nothing, no one, comes between you and me." I nod.  
He frowns. “No. Say it, Sam.”  
“You… wouldn’t do that, sir.”  
“Why not?”  
“Because… because you love me.” I hate it when Dean makes me talk like this, say these things. The self-praise feels thick and foreign in my mouth.  
“And why is that?”  
“I don’t know.”  
It’s nothing more than the honest truth, but he sighs heavily. “Because you’re wonderful and kind and beautiful and you’re mine.”  
“Yes, sir,” I choke out. He kisses my forehead gently.  
"Say it, Sammy," a soft command.  
I think I'd rather he just start beating me. "I'm... I'm..." But the only part I can make myself say is the very last. "I'm yours, sir."  
"Sammy."  
"I'm... I can't."  
"All right," he says, unhappy.  
Dean rifles through the bag of toys, finally finding the cane. It's a thin bamboo one. He puts me in position, on my knees, arms across the bed, and teases my ass with the wood before snapping it down hard.  
This is not the kind of night where Dean is just taking pleasure from this, when he names a number so I'll know when it'll be over. I'm being punished, and Dean will stop when I've learned my lesson and not a second before.  
Then he smacks it down, hard, against my thighs, and thought disappears. Like being whipped by fire, it descends, over and over again. My ass. My thighs. My calves. Agonizingly, the bottoms of my feet. After a while, he'll switch to spanking me with his hand for a few moments, then go back to caning me. There's no rhythm, no pattern, no way to predict when I'll get those few easier spanks or where the next painful blow of the cane will fall.  
I'm crying by the time he finishes, but that's nothing new. I always cry during scenes. There's something really freeing about the way it makes me feel, even when it's just pain, nothing I enjoy. Now, I'm not turned on, hard like I often am when we finish playing.  
"Jerk me off, Sammy," Dean orders softly, and I give him relief quickly, efficiently, so he can bundle me in his arms and remind me I'm his a different way. We don't need sex, not right now, though I'm glad I could give Dean release.  
All I want is to lie in my brother's arms and be reminded that I belong to him, both from the warm strength radiating off of him and the sharp pain in my aching body.  
I get those desires as Dean kisses my forehead and reminds me, "You belong to me, Sammy, and I'll always take care of you."  
It's a ritual, like 'bitch' and 'jerk', but I mean it with all my heart, like I'm saying it for the first time, when I say, "I love you too, sir."  


Sam's getting shit at school from the ____ crowd so Dean sweeps in to protect little brother leading to sex at school and Sam's classmates thinking Dean is Sam's boyfriend

  
Sammy comes home crying and he won't tell me why.  
That means it's time for big brother to do some ass-kicking.  
I show up at lunch, skipping my fifth period class (yeah, Sammy is a hell of a lot more important than woodworking). Takes me no time at all to find it.  
Sam's on his knees, surrounded by a crowd of bigger kids, probably seniors. That makes my blood boil. Sammy's tiny and scrawny and fourteen years old. And mine.  
They're jeering at him, laughing. I hear the words "slut," and "faggot," and "cockwhore." I dig his nails into my hand. Then I hear, "Bet you just want to get fucked good and hard. Maybe I should wait for you after school. Give it to you."  
Well, I don't take that shit. Not from anyone. Don't let people say that about my Sammy.  
I stalk over to the crowd. "What are you all doing?"  
"You don't know?" the oldest boy, the leader, says.  
"This is the school cocksucker," a redhead at his right hand replies. "He's a fag. Telling me all about his little boyfriend."  
I give them a cold smile. "Yeah. That boyfriend? Would be me." I push my sleeves up. "Now, should I break your faces, or will you leave my Sammy alone from now on?"  
"Dude, there are like twenty of us," Leader says.  
Yeah. So you're, what, fifteen short for a fair fight? Okay, not only can I take a lot of people, and they’re kids… they picked on my Sammy. "All right, then, I guess I have to kick your asses."  
I make short work of them, inflicting just enough pain to make them back off, no real damage, and let them stumble to the ground, watching as I gather Sammy up in my arms.  
"Sam?" I say quietly. "You okay?"  
"De," he whimpers. Fuck, he's got a black eye. One of those bastards hit him. I want to kick their asses all over again. Maybe kill some, this time—one or two.  
"C'mere." I press him close to my chest, and he writhes against me. I realize something. "You're hard, Sammy."  
"Turns me on. Watching you protect me."  
That makes me smile. "Okay, baby. You want it?"  
"What?"  
"There's a janitor's closet on the second floor. Wanna?"  
"Oh." He smiles. "Yeah."  
A dude from my second period has a pretty brunette in there, but when the bell rings for the next class they get out of the way. I close the door. In the dark, Sam wriggles up against me. I slip-slide fingers into him, let him fuck himself back onto me in the dark. We gasp each other's names as we come.  
On the way out, our clothes just the slightest bit come stained but extremely rumpled, he takes my hand.  
The next day, he's crying again.  
"What is it, Sammy? Those assholes giving you trouble?"  
"No. They're all scared of my boyfriend." That word makes me smile, even as Sam sighs. "It's the girls."  
"What?"  
"They all hate me because my boyfriend's hotter than theirs."  
I laugh. "Sammy, I can't beat up girls, and I can't help having a sexy-fine body."  
"'s okay, though." He kisses me gently. "Know you're mine."  
"And you're mine." This time, the sex is slow and leisurely and gentle. And we don't have to worry about poor Mrs. Wilkes in the classroom next door having to hear us fuck.  


Summary behind the cut

  
Sam spanks Dean with his hand and with a belt, until he comes just from that. Afterward, Sam fucks him hard and digs his fingers in the bruises, making him come untouched again.

  
Dean takes it so fucking good. My hand's getting red and sore, so I switch to my belt.  
He likes that even better. Every time the leather touches him, swift, vicious strokes, he gasps and wriggles and moans. He begs and pleads for more, and then he begs and pleads for me to stop. That doesn't particularly concern me. He has a safeword if he needs it.  
Dean loves it. He arches up into every stroke, even after "Yes" has turned into "No."  
I hit harder and harder, watching my belt make lines in him, letting the buckle smack into his skin every once in a while.  
When my arm gets sore, I switch back to my hand. It's a different kind of pain I'm inflicting now, surface sting instead of the deep bruises from the belt. He whimpers.  
"Like that, Dean?"  
"Yeah. More. Please, Sammy. Please."  
I hit him hard, viciously, and he grunts. And comes.  
This seems unlikely, since he's on all fours on the bed, his dick hanging totally untouched.  
"Christ, I knew you liked a little pain, but..."  
"Ungh," Dean whimpers, and I decide we won't be having a chat about that today.  
The bed is splattered with come, but I want to see him add to it. While I'm inside him.  
I decide he needs to get hard again, and there's one way to do that. I pick the belt back up.  
Dean writhes and pleads and is hard as a rock in no time at all.  
I open him up, then, just two fingers of prep because I know he'll want it hard. I slick myself with the lube on the bedside table and push in in one vicious thrust. He's still on his hands and knees, and I grip him hard by his sore, bruised ass as I fuck into him.  
I fuck him as hard as I can, because I know that's how he needs it. I don't pay any particular attention to hitting his prostate, more concerned with my own orgasm. My fingers dig viciously into the bruises, and I use that tender skin as a handhold to push myself back and forth, in and out of him.  
He whimpers and comes, untouched, again. His clenching sends me right after him and over the edge.  
When we're cleaned up, I see the tears dripping down his face and polish them away with a gentle fingertip. "Dean," I say quietly, "You could have used your safeword."  
He shakes his head. "No. Didn't want to. Felt good."  
That's all it takes for me to smile and say, "You were good. My good boy."  
Those words always make him sleep, deeply and easily in my arms.  



End file.
